the becoming of sirius black
by Suzie's Q
Summary: His time under the sorting hat will define him.


Just a quick little thing in honour of Sirius' birthday. (I know it's a day late, I'm the worst.) Any typos are because I didn't get this beta'd, I'm double the worst.

* * *

The large brim of the hat flaps over his eyes and Sirius goes blind. There is no breath left in him; he tries to gulp in some air, but his lungs fail to cooperate. The hat weighs a whole world on his head. He squeezes his eyes shut, fingers gripping the edge of the stool so tight they go numb. And he remembers.

Andy has always been his favourite.

This is his last chance to look at the family tree until he comes home for Christmas. His mother bustles around the kitchen, happier than Sirius has seen her in years. Or maybe happy isn't the right word. She is _alive._

She doesn't grumble, nor does she use her eyes or her hands instead of her words to communicate. She speaks fluidly and clearly, telling him about the dormitory and his classes, asking him did he remember to bring his wand. When he comes downstairs for breakfast, woken up early by Kreacher, she even pinches his cheek with pride. He recoils a little, unaccustomed to such a gesture. But it makes his heart light and his stomach swoops a little. His mother smiles so rarely. Every one feels like he's done something right.

She's had Kreacher pack him some turkish delight for the train ride, and she tells him that they'll be leaving for King's Cross in a few minutes. So he takes the chance, and he runs to the portrait in the spare few minutes, this last opportunity she's given him. And he stares.

There's nothing but scorch marks where Andy's face used to be, a big ugly mark where his mother had taken her wand to the tapestry. All that's left of her is the tail end of her name in fine calligraphy, _meda,_ the only proof in the house that she ever existed at all.

But she did. She _does,_ Sirius corrects himself. She's still Andy. She's still softer around the edges than her older sister, warmer than her younger sister. She is calm and stillness in a family full of hurricanes. She used to tell Sirius jokes when she babysat him and Regulus, and she played games with him, and her smile was natural and came easily, and Sirius felt like he wasn't so different from her. That if she was a part of this family, that was enough for Sirius to feel like he was the same as his family.

And now she's gone. Married to a Mudblood, and what's even more daunting to Sirius is the letter that Andy sent him. He has no clue how she got it to him, but she tells him she's happy. And she tells him he deserves to be happy too. He'd never be able to reply to her, since his mother watches him write his letters over his shoulders, but he keeps it pressed into the bottom of his top drawer and he thinks and he thinks and he thinks and he feels like she's reminding him that she's like her but he doesn't know what that means for him, for his future.

Because if Andy doesn't belong, then what does that say about him? Of course, he always knew that Andy didn't belong. Was she just telling him she believed the same about him?

 _But of course you belong in Slytherin,_ the hat croons, a tiny wry voice in his ear that makes his heart pound. _It's where your whole family is._

No, it's not, Sirius thinks with conviction. Andy is still family. Even if he's the only one he thinks so. Even if he can't say her name in his own home. Even if everyone - including him - pretends that she isn't.

He swallows, taking in a shaky breath.

The hat doesn't stop.

 _You don't want to lose your family, do you?_ it asks him, and Sirius shudders. Images flash through his mind - his mother's cruel hand raised, his father's disinterested, passive expression. His parents' proud smile when they introduced him to other people. The lavish Christmas presents fit for a young man, not a boy. His father's eye sparkling when his Hogwarts letter comes. His mother determined to pack him something special for his train ride. He ate every last piece of turkish delight. That means something, doesn't it?

 _I don't know,_ says the hat. _Does it?_

Sirius bites his lip, grateful that the hat covers most of his face, melting with relief that he doesn't have to look out into the sea of faces watching him, the people he'll spend seven years with. Who does he want them to be?

 _So, do you want to lose your family?_ the hat asks him again, and Sirius balls his fist at the tone of amusement. It's a bloody _hat,_ it shouldn't be affecting him so much. He's trembling.

No, he doesn't want to lose his family. But he also doesn't want his family to be the family he has. He doesn't want to be alone. But with his family, he feels that way anyway.

But Regulus. The thought strikes him like a blow to the chest, and he reels backwards on the chair. He feels a gentle hand press to his shoulder, just for a short moment, Professor McGonagall keeping him steady on the chair.

Every time he's been over this in the past weeks, he's come back, again and again, to Regulus. Regulus is even quieter than Sirius is, but he's gentle in a way. They both nod fervently when their parents start to spew about being in Slytherin or being pure of blood, hissing _toujours purs_ at their young sons. But Sirius always thinks that maybe Regulus just nods because it's easiest, the same way Sirius does. Maybe he doesn't really feel what he's agreeing to.

Maybe Sirius could go somewhere else, and endure, if not for Regulus.

 _You love your family,_ the hat remarks. _You want to be loyal, even when you don't feel it. Perhaps you are a Slytherin._

Sirius makes his mind blank, as best he can. Grips the stool, stares straight ahead into the black of the inside of the hat, and resolutely thinks nothing.

And then another voice enters his head. _I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?_

James Potter. He's heard the name Potter thrown around once or twice - stricken from the Sacred Twenty-Eight because of their "obsession with Muggles", as his mother puts it.

Sirius isn't sure he would have sat with that boy if he'd known it was James Potter - or any Potter for that matter. But Sirius was tired of looking for a compartment, and there he was, sitting alone in his own compartment with an untroubled expression on his face, tucking into his own packed treats.

And when Sirius asked to sit down, he seemed so delighted. Leaned forward and started a conversation, asked Sirius was he excited to go, if he had Exploding Snap or if he wanted to play Wizards Chess. Said, "I'm James," and held out his hand, and didn't bat an eyelid when Sirius replied with his own name.

He just talked to him like he'd known him for years, and seemed so excited to do that - it was infectious, and within a couple of hours, Sirius was so relieved that he chose that compartment, that they were joined by two other boys, and for the first time he wasn't marred with the notion that he didn't fit in here. He just felt normal. And he liked it, more than he could say.

 _I thought you were alright,_ James remarked, although he didn't look angry or turned off. He looked amused.

And Sirius heard himself say, "Maybe I'll break the tradition," and he couldn't stop the smile that had split across his face, his muscles unfamiliar with the strength of it.

James Potter smiled a lot, so sure of himself, swinging around an invisible sword excitedly. It was absolutely contagious. Sirius never had that. James told him that he grew up mostly alone with his broomstick, so he was excited to finally have a friend.

The word rattled around his ribcage for a few moments. Friend. It sounded foreign to him. But it also sounded like a word he'd been waiting to hear James Potter say.

He sighs, and he realizes the hat has gone quiet, watching him play out his most recent memories, watching him think about the fierce protectiveness he'd felt when that slimy-haired boy had lashed out. Sirius isn't even sure if he meant to insult James or Gryffindor, or both, but he knows he wasn't able to stop himself from responding.

That boy will be in Slytherin. The girl, he's not sure about, because she looked feisty and fierce and she had life in her eyes that the boy hadn't. But the boy - Snivellus, the name makes him laugh - he's going to be a Slytherin, he thinks, and his stomach lurches and twists and he almost keels over again because he felt such an intense dislike for that boy the moment he'd started talking back, and the idea of sharing a dorm with him and becoming his friend, it rubs Sirius the wrong way.

He tilts his head up, maybe trying to get a peek at his captive audience. He spots James Potter's face, his eyebrows furrowed together as the silence drags on and on and finally breaks apart into hushed whispers, and Sirius sits there and thinks and remembers and wonders if maybe the hat will just tell him to go home if he can't even figure out what he wants, he obviously doesn't belong _here_ anyway, but he's so sure that he doesn't belong at home, he's so sure and he wasn't until he sat down and put the bloody thing on his head, but he knows now, he knows, he knows, he knows it deep down and this is something he doesn't just want, he needs it, needs to forget everyone else and do this for himself. Needs to be brave. And there's really only one choice, especially when he catches Potter's eye and thinks the word _friend._

 _No, my boy,_ says the hat eventually. _There's no choice at all._

And then he shouts "GRYFFINDOR" and the last thing Sirius sees before he collapses into his seat, with a heavy sigh and his heart lighter than it's ever been before, is James Potter's elated face as he shouts and claps along with everyone else.

* * *

Thanks for reading!


End file.
